Scarburg Meadhall

[Firefoot]

Scyld had crowded around with the rest of the Scarburgians at the arrival of the old eorl. Not for the first time in the last month, he found himself peculiarly moved by the loyalty Eodwine’s former household continued to show to him. It was the same sort of attitude that had driven Scyld to seek out these people in the first place – an attitude of selflessness, loyalty… love.

He still did not understand it.

Scyld’s loyalty was to himself – to seeing himself well-provided for, in the best position possible should events turn awry. He was a survivor – and his survival had more than once depended on him looking out for himself, because no one else would. Yet here were all these people, still showing such loyalty to a lord who could no longer serve them as a lord must. Making things harder for themselves by not simply accepting the rule of the new lord, no matter how different he might be from the old. Once, Scyld would have said that one master was just the same as another, but now he was not so sure.

Having lived and worked under both Sorn and Eodwine, he could hardly compare the two. He did not trust Eodwine, because Scyld still feared that if his history were found out he might be sent to the gallows. And if he did not trust Eodwine, he certainly did not trust Athanar and his heavy-handed sense of justice. However, he could not deny the air of freedom and camaraderie shared by those living in Scarburg – something he had never believed could really exist.

That being said, Athanar was no Sorn, and since those first couple of eventful days, Scyld could not really said that the hall fared any worse under Athanar than it had under Eodwine. So in that sense, a change in lord was not so great a hardship.

Still, he could not help but be curious to see how the meeting of the old and the new eorls would play out. Eodwine entered the hall, followed by Saeryn and the hobbit Falco. But then one came whom he was not expecting – Rowenna.

He was startled by his own reaction to seeing her: he felt like his heart was hammering in his throat. Could it be that he had actually missed her? She was certainly interesting, more interesting to him than most of the people in the hall. Like him, she was a survivor – ambitious, and ruthless, perhaps. Not just a little pretty, to sweeten the deal… but vicious. Scyld suddenly recalled his last significant interaction with her had ended in her smacking him across the face.

He realized that he was staring and forced his attention back to Eodwine. Of all the absurd things to be thinking of – a woman! It seemed that all this time he had been spending pretending to be Nydfara was finally getting to his head. Next thing he’d be fluttering and sighing (or crying, as had been the case lately) over the hall romances like the kitchen girls.

He had pulled himself from his reverie just in time to catch Eodwine swearing his fealty to Athanar. Now there was an unexpected turn. He would be interested to hear what the others thought of that. As was his habit, he faded into the background to watch and listen.

[Durelin]

Coen waited to look up at Thornden until the man started to speak. He gave a small smile. “Older wisdom? I hope that is not an attempt at flattery.” He paused, his features growing tighter again. “Naturally I have wondered about his return for some time. And now some questions are answered, but others…”

He twisted his mouth in some distaste at speaking about this so openly. Then he lowered his voice. “Of course I wonder what this will stir back up. Will Eodwine’s fealty be echoed by his people?”

[Folwren]

Thornden’s level gaze did not lower at all when Coenred spoke rather stingingly. He studied him carefully as he finished. “Of course I wonder what this will stir back up. Will Eodwine’s fealty be echoed by his people?”

Thornden drew back a fraction. “I would not be surprised if there was some questioning of his decision at first, but there will be no rebelling, no violence. Eodwine will soon assure everyone that what he has done is best, and he will restore order, if order must be restored. Do you fear otherwise?”

[Firefoot]

Léof was stunned. “He didn’t!” he exclaimed, as Quin explained to him what had happened. Léof wasn’t sure, exactly, what he had expected to happen. Certainly Athanar had made no preparations to leave Scarburg after learning of Eodwine’s return, but Léof had still somehow figured that since Eodwine was back he would naturally take charge again.

“Aye, he did. Just like Quin said,” said Hylath.

He couldn’t believe he’d missed it. Had it really been just as Quin said? Maybe Athanar had said something to him to make him do it… but no. Thornden was sitting right there, too. He would have said something. Léof glanced down at him, but Thornden was no longer following the conversation, instead having his own private one with Coenred. That made Léof a little uncomfortable, since everyone else in the group had come in with Athanar. Or, almost everyone – there was that Nydfara, down at the other end of the table. Ever since Nydfara had confronted him in the stable, Léof didn’t trust him a bit. All in all, he thought, better not to say too much in this conversation. Nothing too controversial, anyway. “Well. Didn’t see that one coming…” said Léof.

“No one did, that’s just it,” said another of the soldiers. Léof still had trouble keeping all their names straight.

“I expected a bit more of a fight, myself,” said Scyrr. Léof did not like Scyrr; he was one of the soldiers most condescending towards Léof’s position as stablemaster. “But it’s like Quin said, the old eorl seemed more than halfway to the grave. Not much of a fighter. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was dead within the week, and all this hubbub for nothing.”

“He has had a long journey,” chided another soldier. “Besides, now he’s got that pretty young wife of his to care for him. I’d get sick too if I could get in on some of that.” A round of laughter followed this comment.

“Enjoy it better if you weren’t sick,” someone chimed in, and the laughter rose louder. Léof felt distinctly uncomfortable hearing the Lady Saeryn discussed this way, and he wished he had a way of turning the conversation back to Eodwine. Fortunately he was saved the effort, for their ribald jests had not gone unnoticed by Thornden.

“Hold your tongue,” Thornden said severely. His eyes clapped onto the last soldier who had spoken. “If you cannot speak respectfully of Lady Saeryn, then don’t speak at all.” He glanced about the table, taking them all in. “Another word in a similar thought, and I’ll see the man outside.” After a pause, he turned again to Coenred and they took up their conversation once more.

There was a moment of silence amongst the soldiers before someone spoke up again.

“What I’d like to know is, why didn’t Lord Athanar formally accept Eodwine’s pledge? He said they had many things to discuss. That sounds to me like it’s not really over.”

Léof’s ears perked up at that. Maybe things weren’t as set in stone as Quin had made it sound? “Does that matter?” he asked. “Did Eodwine only offer loyalty, or swear it?"

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine

"Ginna, tell me how it is with you. How is Harreld?"

The eyes of all the women in the kitchen turned towards Ginna, surprised and then sympathetic. She felt her face growing hot, and a sinking feeling in her stomach as though she had been punched. This was a question she expected, but not here and now. Lord Eodwine, she wanted to say, have you absolutely no sense of subtlely? She suppressed these thoughts with a self-conscious swallow.

"I suppose he's well, uh-" she realised she still did not know how to address him, and left the sentence hanging. "I haven't seen much of him these past weeks. Busy with his work and helping Garreth settle, I suspect."

Eodwine stared at her for a moment, shocked. Lovers make time for each other, sometimes no matter what the cost, he thought. Things were not well between them? He would have to ask Saeryn ... well, not until things were made right between them. He would talk with Ginna alone, later, about that.

"So Garreth is here now too. That is good news. No doubt there is more than enough work for both of them now that Scarburg has twice the warriors. But-" He was about to ask her how she was, but if things were not well between her and Harreld, it would also be a difficult question. "So tell me how things are at Scarburg as you see it from the kitchen."

Ginna gently exhaled in relief that Eodwine chose not to pursue the topic of Harreld further, at least for the meantime. When he next asked her about him, she would be prepared. Perhaps prepared even for what she would ask of Eodwine. She wondered if it would be better to have that conversation with Harreld present. She set the thought aside.

"We hardly even take our eyes off of the kitchen, there's simply too much work to be done here," Frodides replied with a look at Ginna, who smiled at her gratefully. "But since we have not heard news of brawlings or shouting matches, perhaps things have become more peaceful since Athanar arrived."

A small silence settled. Modtryth's mind had been elsewhere - Saeryn's follies, and where had she run off to, if the boys were still trying to catch fish with their bare hands or do something about as idiotic, Bema only knew how big part of the day she had spent stopping them from even more tomfoolery than on an average day - but now she was there. She hated to be the stromcrow, but Eodwine needed the truth.

"Lord Eodwine," she said. "Not all has been well, I'm afraid. There was much strife between Lord Athanar's folk and yours in the beginning - I don't know if you know, but Erbrand and Lithor are gone after Erbrand stabbed one of Athanar's men. Lots of smaller conflicts too, starting from Javan hitting Lord Athanar's daughter. It was a mess... it's been more peaceful for the last month or so, everybody's getting settled in, and I reckon the trouble with the landlords is past too. And of course, week by week this place becomes more like a proper meadhall, although there is still much to do, most notably the sheep don't have a place yet." She stopped, quite out of breath. Modtryth was a quiet woman, not used to talking so much at once, especially not to high lords, even high lords as amiable as Lord Eodwine.

Eodwine smiled. "Some of what you say is known to me, Modtryth. I must ask you not to call me 'lord' anymore, for I no longer hold the title, and I am not your eorl. I am your friend. I hope that is enough."

Rowenna

She had walked with Eodwine and Saeryn to Athanar, where she had spotted a familiar face; her gut wrenched. The last dealing she had had with the owner of that face had been a tongue lashing in her rage. She could almost feel the sting in her palm from having slapped him so hard.

Nydfara.

She kept her eyes on Eodwine as he knelt and offered his sword and aid, which was not quite accepted by the new eorl. This much she noticed.

But she could not get Nydfara out of her head. There was that same pull she had felt before, and she knew why it was there. There was that something about him that put her in mind of her two years with the brigands. It had been a hard life and she had been unfairly used by them; yet there had been something about the life that she had loved. It had been adventurous; she had had to keep her wits about her and had learned the subtle use of her womanhood in that hard life. She had become adept at getting them to do her bidding without them quite realizing it was her will they were following. It had been a heady experience. She felt it calling to her again, just by being near Nydfara.

She had also become embittered and deeply wounded during those two years, and she knew deep down that any talk or dealings or more with Nydfara would likely send her back into that. She did not want it; she wrestled down the vixen in her nature and paid Nydfara not the least attention.

When Saeryn and Eodwine had gone to their rooms, Rowenna had gone to the stables to help with the mounts, and then was shown to the room she would call her own. She put away her things and made the little room her own, as much as could be done in a short time, and then went to the Hall.

Most everyone was gathered and talking in big groups or small. Not surprisingly, a lot of the talk was about Eodwine. Where was Falco? Nowhere to be seen in the Mead Hall? How odd. She wondered where he was. With a quick glance she saw Nydfara at the end of one of the tables where the men sat. She passed by without a glance and made her way to the women, and Eodwine. Saeryn was not in the Hall.

Eodwine had just finished speaking when she arrived. She greeted the women and turned to Eodwine. "Where is Lady Saeryn, Eodwine? I would speak with her."

"She is in our room, I think," he answered. He still did not look well, and his face seemed more pinched just then, speaking of his wife. "Go see her if you like. It has been a long time since you have had a chance to talk to each other."

[Folwren]

When Rowenna knocked on Saeyrn’s door, Saeryn was sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking. Her hands rested in her lap, clenched, and her lips were pressed hard shut. She looked up at the sound of the knock and then answered it. “Who is it?”

“'Tis Rowenna. May I come in?”

Saeryn paused, and then replied that she could. She stood as the door opened and when Rowenna entered, Saeryn went forward to greet her, putting her arms about her and kissing her cheek.

“I did not have time to welcome you back before, Rowenna,” she said, smiling briefly. “I trust you are well?”

[Folwren]

“Did Eodwine only offer loyalty, or swear it?” Léof asked.

Quin tilted the cup of water in his hand and watched the liquid swirl. “Let’s see,” he said, thinking. “Yes, I’d say he swore it. He said, ‘Here is my sword,’ he was kneeling at this time and had offered Athanar the hilts of his sword, and he went on, ‘and I offer you my aid as long as you need it.’ And here is where I think he really swore it, ‘I will hold you as lord until you or the king release me.’” Quin nodded his head. “He said that. ‘I will hold you as lord,’ and if that isn’t saying Athanar was eorl, and Eodwine no longer was, then I don’t know what would be. Athanar took the sword, too. He set it on that table. . ." he pointed, and then paused. "He must have taken it with him," he said when the sword was no where in sight.

He shrugged and looked at Léof. “So, what do you think? You’ve been with Eodwine for a long time, and I imagine your reaction will reflect those of the others, too. Were you expecting this?”